Kiss You Goodbye
by sammygolucky
Summary: In the story - basically this is character profile:  Arriana Scott  15 Years Old  Blue eyes  Blonde hair  Pale/rosy skin  Not too tall, not too short  A little bit curvy  Verrrrrrry natural    Yeah:   I didn't know what to write for a category so I picked
1. Chapter 1

Kiss You Goodbye

Hi So I wrote this story because I felt like exploring a new type of book theme, I guess it's kinda morbid but comical in some areas. Her name is Arianna Scott, and she wants to commit suicide for her sixteenth birthday, in about three months. Hope it somehow changes your perspective, but at the least you like it.

They're watching me. I'm their experiment; how long it will be before I break into tiny little pieces, they wonder. They crave to see me flinch at cruel words and shiver at their dark hoots of laughter. They take my backpack – it's not my fault, it's not my fault. I keep telling myself if I leave it long enough they'll stop. They are relentless. Amy Crowe, Thomas Matherson, Jenna Pot are the leaders.

"Ha-ha! Mona, look at what this little whores wearing! How short is that skirt?" She pinches at my pleated skirt, which to me doesn't seem that long and is all I can wear until my only pair of trousers is repaired. Then Thomas tries to lift it up. I find myself squealing and trying to escape hopelessly. I'm surrounded by all of them. My only offence to this jury is my existence, which is why… (deep breath) I won't go back on my decision to take a life. _Take my life. _

I'm too numb to give a damn about who I am, about how I can make things better. My family - or should I say my 'mother' – comes home from work, wine bottle in hand, and gets pissed on the sofa. I hate myself for having to watch her; my older sister, running round with new men every week, not worrying about anything. No one cares; no one learns from mistakes, people never change. I won't miss anyone or anything. How could I possibly miss the dull black gates that keep me in school, keep me in torture? How could I miss Amy and Thomas and Jenna and the lot of them? How could I miss my family, who haven't noticed me in years?

The only thing I could possibly miss is my Dad, if he were here. He died at sea, courageously. He died a true man, a true father, but he doesn't realize the destruction he left behind. Am I a coward for wanting the end this life, or am I brave for facing death? I ask myself this a lot. Only three more months of asking myself this, and on the stroke of midnight, on my sixteenth birthday I will be gone. Why live through another agonizing year when I can sleep for eternity.

"Get the ball, Miss Scott." Mrs Pore, the P.E. teacher says coldly. Her eyes contain the slightest reminiscence of a struggling marriage. I feel hard, cold sympathy. The boys are playing football closest to the hedge where they lost one of their balls, and since I have no kit today, I think my punishment is getting it back for them. The small group peer at me from their conversation – I reach in through the brambles, cut into by thorns, and bring out of damp, muddy ball. I throw it back to them with terrible aim and some snigger as they kick it back into the field. One remains, staring curiously. We catch eye contact; he's not from around here, he's new, he's… different.

I walk slowly into Maths - I'm late. Oh god. Everyone's gazes fall on me like a blanket of snow, cold and frosty. The teacher doesn't give me a second glance, and instead exchanges a pitying click of the tongue and marks me late. If he pities me as much as I'd hoped, he would mark me in with the others, just to be nice. But butterflies die easily - so does hope. Mr Gordon beckons me to a seat that I'm sure is empty, until I notice the charcoal eyes set in the pale skin. The new kid. I sit furthest away from him on the tiny desk because I know there's no room for friendship between us - he'll turn out like the rest of them. He'll murder my soul a little bit more; but in three months he won't see me ever again.

By then, I'll be nothing but a dug-over hole in the ground, and a piece of rock with my name engraved.

_Arianna Scott_

_1996-2011_

_Love you always, _

_For eternal sleeping nigh._

_When midnight strikes we,_

_Kiss you Goodbye._


	2. Chapter 2

I scrape my plate of leftover pizza into the bin because it was too cold and hard to eat. I'd come home late, after an after school detention for being late over three times today, and the microwave didn't seem to be working lately. I sigh with deep frustration; why should I have to live like this? I remind myself that there're poorer and more unhygienic places, but it just makes me feel lower; sick of myself, quite frankly.

"Arianna!" An overexcited sister bursts though the kitchen door, oddly I find it irritating to see her youthful, joyous expression, especially because every night she ruins her life a little bit more.

"What, Brooke?" It's so obvious I'm fed up, but she's too thick to even think about it, she's too thick to understand that I'm half dead inside, and I can't wait to be completely dead.

"Gosh, don't be moody! Basically, you know my new boyfriend, Jake? Well he managed to score us tickets to that cool gig thing, with that new band. How cool is that? We get to meet the band, pay nothing, and listen to some hot boys' sing."

"Ohmygod!" I snap. "What even is that? You got yourself a new boyfriend yesterday, and already you want to score with some lad from a rock band that probably won't even touch fame and fortune! Why don't you keep your skirt on for once and do something with your life, instead of changing who you're with every week. So instead of changing boyfriends, you should change yourself! Change the fact you want attention all the time, change the fact every Sunday you wake up in bed with someone you don't remember, change your unemployment status, get a job, get money, GET A LIFE." I'm almost shouting, my voice splitting on every word. My gut splinters into anxiousness and worry. I witness her face crumble, low and ashamed and disappointed. Gut-wrenching pain, shaking ankles that could buckle beneath her any minute.

Or is this a realization? A new opportunity? A chance. I didn't expect her to have a realization, but maybe my cruel words did do some good. All this time I've not had really any guts to tell her different, but before I'm gone I want to leave her on a good note. I want her to be strong, happy, confident... I said I didn't care about myself anymore, but I do care about my sister. I wouldn't want her turning the way I have, walking down the same dark roads every day, drowning in sorrow.

"You – you think that's what I am…" A tear rolls down her face and she looks at me with a glistening pair of green eyes. I don't know if I should disagree, it might break the realization.

"It's not who you are, it's what you do. You don't settle down, you'll never be significance to any man the way you're going." I say coldly. I have to do it. I have to hurt her to get her out of this. "I'm going to bed, night."

I stroll out of the room, hatefully watch my mom down the last of her vodka on the couch, and run upstairs to fall into hazy sleep on my cluttered bed. It's only half eight, but what does it matter anymore?

"Hi,"

I look up from my algebra into some sparkling charcoal eyes and a smile. It's _him_. I don't force a smile, I won't smile anyway. "Hey." I shiver as a cold draft drifts over me, and then fall back to my equations. I'm sure he'll understand next week why, by next week he'll want to be a part of Thomas's group. I exhale shakily. I think he heard.

"Are you ok? I'm Griffin by the way." He seems to me like he's trying to care. Pity he doesn't.

"Arianna," I reply. "I'm fine. I'm sure by next week you'll be as insolent as you think I am. After all, you haven't been here long; you'll need to know the ropes."

"Show me them, then, explain." He smiles at me, but I can't seem to return that look.

"Well basically, you'll follow everyone else. You'll be a part of Jenna and Thomas and Amy's crowd, you'll want to hurt me. And you won't give a damn. It's the circle of life, its ok though… I'll only be here for three more months."

Woops. I didn't mean to say the last part. Or any of it really, and I didn't quite understand why I was being so darkly comical about this to him. I don't understand why I felt like telling him everything.

"Why where are you going?" Griffin wonders, smiling eyes.

"…On holiday. And I doubt I'll come back." I whisper. That was the first time my eyes got slightly cloudy with tears when I mentioned this. I had to pretend that this was something nice, just a little getaway trip. But it was an eternal getaway trip. And say we did become close, I would hate to be talked out of it.


	3. Chapter 3

Music floods into my brain and fiddles on my ear drums; it's Coldplay. My hands are too numb to skip through tracks, as I wait for the bus in the cold. I can sense something's watching me, but I'm too bothered with everything else to care enough. There's probably nothing even there, I tell myself. After all, I was stood in front of an allegedly haunted apartment - derelict, broken, soulless… or just a misunderstood home.

I turn to face it, curious now. Simple brown-slate roof, red brick, smashed in windows. Not very big, hardly any garden, door with scratch marks that linger across the hinges, and a peculiar thorny vine growing up it, intertwining around the window panes and avoiding any cracked brick. A loose curtain is fluttering in the broken, top left window. I focus on it as it the deep wine colour dances with the wind and fights for freedom. But as soon as the pretty, harmless fluttering stops for the first time I notice the demonic little face pressed against the glass.

I turn away in blind panic, trying to pretend I hadn't seen it, but force myself to look back, just so I can prove I was only hallucinating. But no, nada, I was wrong. It was still at the window, speculating me with a hungry, glowering eye. I look it right in the eyes in attempt to scare it away, but its head tilts to the side curiously.

Then the bus arrives, pulling to a heavy stop at whereabouts I'm standing. I turn back to window once more and alas the face is gone, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I slump into the only empty seat.


End file.
